


With Profane Blood On Hallowed Ground

by Peramia



Series: With Profane Blood [2]
Category: BioShock 1 & 2 (Video Games), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: BAMF Darcy Lewis, Brainwashing, Crossover, Darcy Lewis has powers, Darcy Lewis is Eleanor Lamb, Darcy Lewis-centric, Electrokinesis, Enhanced Strength, F/M, Forced Bonding, HYDRA Sophia Lamb, Hydra kidnaps Darcy, Implied/Referenced Brainwashing, Little Sister!Darcy Lewis, MCU/Bioshock Crossover, Murder, Post Escape from Rapture, Powers!Darcy Lewis, Pre Avengers Canon, References to the Holocaust, Super Soldier Darcy Lewis, Telekinesis, Telepathy, Torture, enhanced healing, mental bond, pyrokinesis
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-16
Updated: 2018-10-16
Packaged: 2019-05-23 22:08:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14942246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peramia/pseuds/Peramia
Summary: Darcy Lewis was once known as Eleanor Lamb, the runaway unwilling “messiah” of the secret underwater dystopia of Rapture. She thought escaping to the surface world would let her live free and happy. HYDRA had other plans. After all, a pair of super soldier assassins are far better than just one.





	1. Daddy's Little Girl

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first fic I've written in eight years and I'm super nervous about it so please let me know what you think, even if it's just to tell me you hate it. I'm especially worried that I've been too descriptive and wordy. If, by some miracle, you guys do like this and want me to continue, let me know. I have quite a bit planned out but wanted to test the waters before I committed to writing, like, 50,000 words or something.
> 
> Also, I'm not sure if I want the pairing to just be Bucky/Darcy or if I should, waaaay later in the story, add Steve into that relationship, as well. Let me know what you guys want!
> 
> Chapter title referencing the song Daddy’s Little Girl by The Mills Brothers.  
> If you are unfamiliar with Bioshock and my attempts to explain as I could aren't enough to clear up your confusion then I _have_ written a Bioshock Primer for readers of this fic with any Bioshock characters or concepts I've mentioned, here. You can find it [HERE](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14942276)

 

 

_Ellie, wake up!_

 

Eleanor Lamb snapped awake with a jerk as urgency not her own slammed through her mind.

 

 _Father?_ She questioned sleepily, barely coherent. The jolt of answering adrenaline her father’s urgency sent through her body jolted her fully awake.

 

 _Something's wrong, I heard a strange sound and Celeste hasn't come to bed._ _Now the apartment is too quiet._

 

Eleanor sat up, listening intently. As her father indicated, she heard nothing, and that was more concerning than if whatever sound her father had initially heard had repeated. Celeste was a wonderful and considerate partner. Her girlfriend always tried to keep it quiet when Eleanor was managing to sleep peacefully, knowing how rare that was for her, but her lover was a klutz. The quieter she tried to be, the more noise she inevitably made as she dropped things, tripped over the coffee table, and, hilariously, kept shushing herself at the slightest noise. Eleanor hadn't the heart to tell her that she'd sleep easier if Celeste just went about like normal.

 

But those sounds were routine and comforting, father wouldn't wake her just because Celeste had dropped the remote or slammed her shin into the coffee table, again. And right now there was nothing. No shushing, no soft cursing, just total silence.

 

Something was very wrong.

 

Silently, Eleanor slipped out of bed and made her way to the closed bedroom door, not bothering to get dressed. A bright white camisole and panties may not be the best choice if there's an intruder but she's more than capable of fighting in them and won't leave Celeste vulnerable for the time it would take to change.

 

Slowly, quietly, she opened the door, taking care to lift it, slightly, as she did so as to prevent the squeaky hinge she'd been meaning to fix from complaining. She peered out into the darkness of the apartment, another sign that something was very wrong. Celeste always left the kitchen light on so she could see to walk through the dark apartment. Thankfully, Eleanor wasn't normal and had been born and raised in the near pure darkness only the deep Ocean can produce. It only took a moment to spot the five figures dressed in black and wearing night vision goggles and tac vests. They looked like commandos (burglars wouldn’t be so well equipped) and were each armed with what appeared to be silenced handguns. The men were gesturing silently to one another with some kind of sign language. Celeste was no where to be seen.

 

Fury ignited inside her that these men would _dare_ come after her and the small family she’d built, Father's anger and worry feeding her own. As much as she’d _love_ to fry these assholes she wouldn't be able to use Incinerate. The old turn of the century building is beautiful, but with it’s ancient wood floors, old wiring, and ornate wooden molding it was a fire trap. Thankfully, there were other abilities she could use. Eleanor called upon every ounce of enhanced speed ADAM had granted her and _moved_. The bedroom door slammed against the wall, wooden door and drywall both cracking from the force.

 

Eleanor came out at full speed, and before the intruders could react to the blur racing across their goggle’s lenses, she'd already crossed the living room and slammed into the closest commando. Her fist smashed into his jaw just beneath the goggles before delivering a brutal kick to his knee, the sound of splintering bone and an agonized scream sounding out visibly startling the man’s comrades.

 

The soldier that had been standing beside her victim jumped and fumbled his weapon at her sudden appearance and his partners agonized shrieking as he writhed on the floor. He started to raise his gun but Father had already whispered a devious suggestion in her mind. Eleanor snarled a vicious grin, her white teeth gleaming threateningly in the dark room, and gestured. Her telekinesis picked up the television behind him and hurtled the heavy black box towards the unsuspecting man. His fellow commandos shouted a warning even as glass shattered and plastic snapped, the television crashing screen first into his head. The intruder dropped to the floor in a graceless sprawl, the heavy, ruined television capped over his head and blood pooling underneath him. A large shard of the broken screen was jutting out of his neck, glistening with rivulets of bright red.

 

Yelling and panic immediately erupted across the room as the three remaining commandos attempted to regroup and respond. Eleanor rushed towards her next victim, ignoring the sting of shots they fired at her in their desperation to keep her from getting close. She trusted her enhanced healing would keep her up and fighting, though she may have to reopen some of the wounds later to remove the bullets.

 

At Father's reminder that her healing would not be much help against a head shot, Eleanor leaped, nearly touching the high ceiling and easily crossing the few feet between her and the next startled commando, slamming her fist into the side of the man's head with all her weight and enhanced strength. The man's skull burst open like a melon, blood and brain matter splattering across her face and clothes. Unfortunately, her landing wasn't as solid as she'd planned. He knees buckled slightly against the force of it and she had to grab the back of the blood stained sofa to balance her stumbling body. Irritated, she shook off the slight dizziness, leaving Father to figure out the cause of it, and turned towards where the remaining two commandos were continuing to fire at her even as they attempted to put more distance between her and them in the vain hope that it would save them. To throw off their aim, she allowed a ball of arcing electricity to envelop her right hand, the bright light blinding their vision through the night vision goggles. The gunfire immediately ceased as the men threw their arms up to block the searing light burning their eyes.

 

Eleanor crouched, fist full of lightning held at the ready, bunching her muscles to leap across the room once more when, with a thundering crash and the echo of splintered wood, the door to the apartment slammed open, a dozen more commandos pouring into the room, all of them shooting as soon as they caught sight of her.

 

Eleanor's knees buckled, and this time her grip on the sofa couldn't steady her. Down she went, slamming into the hard wood floor with bruising force. Looking down, Eleanor expected to see her camisole soaked with her own blood, though she surprisingly felt no pain. She was shocked to see her torso and legs were riddled with dozens of small darts. Her vision swam and the world whirled around her.

 

When reality finally settled, somewhat, she was sprawled out on her side, the oak flooring cold and hard beneath her. Black booted feet surrounded her and she felt a writhing ball of panic build in her chest and throat. She wanted so badly to get them away from her. Her power had faded away with her break in concentration so, desperately, Eleanor reached down to pull on the blistering inferno that had raged inside her since she was 13. She managed to snap her numb fingers, but no ball of flame emerged to ignite her attackers and burn them to ashes for daring to touch her tiny family. Confused and terrified, she again reached for the flame, but again it slipped away from her. Through the smothering wool that clouded her mind she frantically reached for her telekinesis, hoping to at least blast them away from her. Nausea and exhaustion left her reeling, her power barely able to make one of them stumble back a step from the push.

 

Her vision darkened, Father screaming in her mind for her stay awake. Forcing her eyes open, Eleanor finally spotted the body lying on the kitchen floor behind her attackers. Celeste's pretty green eyes open and blank, a single gunshot wound between them. Tears slipped down her face as everything finally went black.

* * * * *

 

 _Icy water trickled down the thick glass, pooling in freezing puddles on the broken tile. Outside the giant window a_ _massive,_ _hulking figure in a_ _bulky_ _diving suit hefted his rivet gun,_ _scattering the few curious fish brave enough to investigate the air bubbles drifting up from the crack of space between the glass and metal trim,_ _and set to repairing the loose bolts allowing in the salty ocean water._ _T_ _he rivulets of water slowed to a trickle, then stopped._ _The large figure checked the seal, then turned to seek out the next leak, one heavy, lumbering step at a time. He’d likely find one before too long, as building a city at the bottom of the ocean, with the humongous pressure from the extreme depth and sheer amount of water that came with it, meant for never ending maintenance. The civil war and resulting anarchy that had erupted within Rapture had left, and was still leaving, a lot of damage to fix, as well._

 

 _From where she_ _lay strapped to_ _a_ _medical bed, her ADAM rich blood steadily dripping through the I_ _V_ _and into the_ _nearly_ _full blood bag,_ _Eleanor_ _watched hazily as the Big Daddy_ _disappeared into the murky water outside._ _T_ _he sight of the familiar figure ma_ _de_ _her chest burn in remembered grief._

 

_Neither of them had asked for what Dr. Tenenbaum and Dr. Suchong had done to them. Eleanor had only been 6 when she was kidnapped and sold to Fontaine’s Little Sister Orphanage, a front for human experimentation in the quest for more ADAM, a chemical produced by a parasitic sea slug that could alter DNA. The so called ‘miracle drug’ could change a person’s looks, race, sex, intelligence level, and even give them super powers via injections called Plasmids. The company and scientists behind the sale of ADAM and Plasmids conveniently hid the fact that not only was ADAM addictive but repeated, long term use of it eventually caused the break down of DNA, leading to horrific cancerous tumors, physical mutations, and violent mental instability. But the slugs alone couldn’t produce enough ADAM to meet public demand._

 

_Through horrific and unethical human experimentation, the scientists had discovered that, for some unknown reason, young girls between the ages of 4 and 12 were the only humans capable of surviving both the implantation and long term hosting of the ADAM parasite. The company fueling the research and sale of ADAM, Fontaine Futuristics, put up the facade of an orphanage for girls and starting implanting them with the parasite. The implanted girls were called Little Sisters, after the so called orphanage they were taken from. The ADAM parasite turning them into human ADAM factories and the huge amount of the chemical in their systems turned their skin an ashy gray, made their eyes glow a bright gold, and even caused their voices to gain an eerie hollow quality. Looking so monstrous seemed to make it even easier for the scientists to convince themselves that the girls were no longer human and, therefore, didn’t need to be treated humanely._

 

_Another side effect of the huge amounts of ADAM in their developing systems was enhanced healing (Eleanor forcibly pushed away the memories of being strapped down and cut into over and over, of regrowing whole limbs they’d sawed off so the scientists could test the limits of that healing). Later, after puberty, they’d discovered that, while their bodies no longer produced ADAM as effectively, they had gained enhanced strength and speed as well as the ability to use several of the Plasmid powers which, unlike normal Plasmid users, they could use without the need for frequent ADAM injections, marketed as EVE, to fuel the abilities. Though excessive use of their powers were a drain on the teenage Little Sisters’ systems and overuse without a boost of ADAM, or at least some down time and a good meal, could be dangerous._

 

_But even that vast increase in ADAM production hadn’t been enough for the company or public demand. Eventually the scientists devised a combination of brainwashing, conditioning, and mental reprogramming to force the Little Sisters to feel a constant hunger to seek out the corpses of the recently deceased and drink their ADAM rich blood, their systems able to filter and purify the ADAM within it and jumping up production of the chemical even more._

 

_But due to the erupted civil war requiring greater and greater amounts of EVE to fuel the Plasmid power use in each battle as well as the increasingly violent and unstable citizens’ addictions, both sides of the conflict were seeking out the Little Sisters, intending to rip into them and claim both their ADAM rich blood and the parasite within the children for the massive amounts of ADAM it contained. Thus the Big Daddies were created to serve as protectors._

 

_Eleanor’s own Big Daddy was Jack Darcy, a surface dweller who’d stumbled upon the discovery of Rapture and, in order to keep its existence a secret, was imprisoned and eventually forced into the Big Daddy program. They’d experimented on him, injecting him with experimental Plasmids, and sealed him inside the Big Daddy’s armored diver’s suit. They’d brainwashed, conditioned, and reprogrammed him, just as they’d done to her. Then they’d brought Eleanor and the newly dubbed Subject Delta together and, through a combination of electricity, ADAM, those damned chairs, and a cocktail of drugs, managed to force a mental pair-bond on them._

 

_That bond was indescribable. For all it had been unwilling, Eleanor would never have wanted to give it up. The feeling of being in another’s head, to know them backwards and forwards, to intimately know every thought and memory was an amazing experience. She’d never felt so safe as she did with him. Part of the drugs they’d given them had forced a sort of artificial love. The emotion is, after all, only a series of chemicals released in the brain. It had been their choice to embrace it rather than endure it. They’d grabbed hold of that love with both hands, the only comfort they had in their bleak existence, and had become father and daughter in truth._

 

 _And then her mother found her and_ _**murdered** _ _her father right in front of her eyes. She took her away,_ _took control of Rapture,_ _broke_ _Eleanor’s_ _Little Sister programming, and_ _then_ _decided to continue_ _her daughter_ _’s sad history of be_ _ing_ _a human experiment in the name of saving humanity_ _from itself_ _._

 

 _Eleanor_ _consoled herself with the knowledge that even now, one of_ _the_ _new Little Sisters was on her way to_ _give_ _her_ _final instructions to revive Father in a cloned body_ _to_ _the repentant Dr._ _Tenenbaum,_ _who would ensure the Big Daddy mental programming wouldn’t revive with him. Father would be wholly himself when they revived him_ _. 'Soon', she told herself, '_ _S_ _oon Father_ _will be alive, again,_ _and_ _he’ll save me_ _._ _We’ll be together and free and_ _I'll_ _finally_ _know what_ _sunshine feels like outside of Father’s memories_ _.'_

 

 _A whoosh sounded out in the quarantined room, distracting her from her thoughts of freedom. She turned her head, slowly so as to avoid the usual dizziness from the blood loss, to witness her mother enter with another... volunteer. The woman's torn,_ _form fitting_ _red_ _dress and scraggly bond hair were typical in Rapture, these days._

 

 _L_ _arge, sagging tumors cl_ _ung_ _to the woman's face and hip clearly identifying her as a Splicer,_ _her ADAM addiction having damaged her mind and DNA hit by hit until tumors erupted all over her body and violent madness corrupted whoever she may have been before she’d chosen to alter her DNA_ _. She was a marked contrast to Eleanor's mother. Dr. Sophia Lamb was the picture of prim propriety from her worn but clean dress and perfectly pinned coif to her neat little spectacles and polished heeled shoes._ _Both of them, however, wore the butterfly broach pinned proudly to their chests that proclaimed them members of The Rapture Family, her mother's sycophantic cult._

 

_"Hello, Eleanor, it's good to see you finally awake." Her mother spoke distractedly, more interesting in peering into whatever test results were displayed in the folder she carried._

 

 _"I'm sorry mother, was my drugged unconsciousness inconvenient for you? How rude of me!" Eleanor drawled, facetiously apologetic._ _Her mother even glance at her but she did, unfortunately, catch the Splicer’s attention._

 

 _"Oh! The Messiah! What an honor it is to meet you!_ _I am blessed to gaze upon the Lamb!_ _" The woman's heavy Polish accent and surprisingly girlish voice practically_ _**dripped** _ _with awe and adoration. Eleanor sneered at the both of them and scoffed,_ _choosing not_ _to answer with the scorn the woman deserved. The satisfaction of seeing the offended shock her mother's crazy followers always showed wouldn't be worth what Mother would do to her to for it later._

 

 _"Right over here, Zivia, just lay down on the gurney and we can begin." Sophia ushered_ _forward_ _the star struck woman, choosing to ignore her daughter's attitude. She_ _helped_ _the Splicer get settled,_ _aiding the woman in lifting up the massive tumor attached to her left hip and raising the gurney’s side just to keep it from hanging off the bed,_ _before cleaning and sanitizing the woman's filthy arm. Eleanor watched,_ _a heavy_ _dread_ _setting in her chest_ _, as her mother tried to get the woman's shaking arm to hold still long enough to insert the IV._

 

 _"I'm sorry, Dr. Lamb, I'm just so nervous! What if I'm not accepted into Paradise?_ _The things I’ve done… am I even worthy?_ _" The woman apologized, the dark blush of shame that painted her cheeks making the pa_ _sty_ _skin of the sagging tumor obscuring nearly half her face all the more prominent._

 

 _Her mother took the woman's now clean hand into her own, the calm faith in her eyes_ _sending a chill up_ _Eleanor_ _spine_ _even as it reassured her follower. "Listen Zivia, you know as well as I do that so long as humanity_ **can** _hold on to all those selfish desires it_ **will** _. To truly be free and happy we must let go of the self and join with all of humanity in one, selfless, Utopia._ _Once you are free of your earthly body you will also be free of the self’s grasping selfishness and thus_ _will be_ _**made** _ _worthy._ _You_ _have been chosen as one of the first of the Rapture Family to reach that paradise! You're faith and sacrifice will finally be rewarded_ _as you are made part of one grand Utopia within The Lamb_ _!"_

 

 _Blissful joy blossomed over the woman's ruined face. Eleanor fought down the nausea that threatened to over_ _take her_ _. She didn't try to protest or talk sense into the woman. She didn't bother to beg_ _or_ _plead with her mother not to do this. She'd tried it all before and it only made it worse. Her mother was determined to eliminate ‘_ _the self’ and_ _create a Utopian repository of all mankind's minds and she'd_ _decided_ _that her daughter's body, with all it's enhancements_ _and immunities_ _due to_ _her_ _status_ _as a Little Sister,_ _was the perfect vessel. N_ _ever mind that she's destroying her daughter in the process, so long as her insane_ **ideals** _are fulfilled she views it as a sacrifice well made!_

 

_Eleanor was terrified of the day her mother decided it was time to begin implanting the mental programming. Everything she was, her personality, memories, hopes, dreams, and emotions would all be wiped away to realize her mother’s ideal of a “perfected” humanity. That would be the day Eleanor Lamb died and her mother’s First Utopian was born._

 

 _Eleanor clenched her teeth as hard as she could to hold back the scream building behind them. Futilely she pulled at the restraints holding her down,_ _the damned drugs her mother kept administering left her weak as a kitten,_ _before finally settling back_ _in_ _the bed again,_ _feeling hopeless and afraid. Her view of her dark, depressing cell wavered as_ _helpless tears_ _threatened to spill down her pale cheeks._ _Stubbornly she blinked them back, she refused to show weakness in front of these lunatics! And besides, Father would be alive again within next 24 hours so her mother would never get the chance to erase her._

 

 _Sophia_ _had apparently finished whatever crazed,_ _fanatical_ _speech she was giving during Eleanor's moment of panic. Distantly, she heard her mother promise to turn on the radio so the woman could focus on the music instead of the procedure._

 

 _A click echoed against the tiled walls and floor and_ _upbeat_ _music drifted into the room,_ _the perky beat at odds with the tense moment_ _._

 

_"I haven't got a headache darling_

_And my vision is ok too_

_Just look in my eyes and you can see_

_the trouble with me is you"_

 

 _Eleanor_ _couldn’t help the_ _snort_ _she gave_ _, incredulous at fate's sense of humor. "Look, Mother!" she exclaimed dryly, "It's our song!"_

 

 _Sophia Lamb shot her daughter a warning look as she finished setting up the IV. Her heels clicked against the cold tile as she strode across the room to disconnect the glowing red bag of blood Eleanor had steadily been draining into. With practiced, concise movements she hooked_ _her captive daughter up to the_ _to the tube leading to the transfusion machine sitting on a small table between the two beds. With a flick of a switch Sophia set the machine buzzing, steadily drawing the blood out of the Splicer and into Eleanor._

 

 _The ADAM enriched blood burned._ _I_ _t always, always, burned as it forced itself into her veins._

 

 _As the Splicer's breathing began to stutter and slow, Eleanor could_ **hear** _the screaming in her mind begin to_ _build_ _. An_ _overwhelming_ _avalanche of memories, thoughts, and impressions crashed over her, nearly drowning her_ _as she struggled to hold onto herself in the midst of the onslaught_ _._

 

 _Her name is_ _Eleanor Lamb._ _She’s 16 years old and the_ _daughter of_ _Jack Darcy, code name Subject Delta._ _S_ _he was going to bring her father_ **back** _and... and..._

 

 _She is_ _10 year old Zivia, sobb_ _ing_ _brokenly_ _as she lay on the tiny gurny with_ _the_ _cooling_ _body of her twin sister clutched in her emaciated arms as the doctor tsked over the failure of yet another test. Her sister is dead and the doctor will now surely send her to the little red house to die, as well. Why has HaShem let this happen? Does He hate them?_ _Has_ _H_ _e abandoned_ _H_ _is people?!_

 

 _"אָפּשטעל! ביטע, האַלטן! עס טוט וויי!" Ziv_ _i_ _a/Eleanor begged, her/their head felt like it was_ _breaking open_ _! Why won't the doctor/mother stop? Can't she see her/their skin is blackening and burning? Surely she/they must be on fire, nothing else could possibly hurt this bad!_

 

 _In the depths of her/their agony,_ _and as a lifetime of thoughts and memories poured over her/them, one_ _memory_ _in particular_ _caught_ _her/their_ _attention._

 

 _She_ _is now_ _was_ _35 and_ _scuttling through the shadows, desperate to reach the room at The Pink Pearl she'd rented from Daniel Wales as quickly as she could. Sure she had to spread her legs to pay for it but it was still a dry roof over her head and relative safety considering the body of the last guy that killed one of his hookers was still hanging, skewered, on the wall in the lobby. She'd even managed to steal a hit of EVE from the two Splicers_ _busy_ _tearing into each other_ _over it at a bar in the Plaza where she'd been trying to score a john for the night. If she could just get home she could enjoy the ecstasy of the hit as the tin of tuna she'd_ _bought_ _heated over the fire._

 

 _So excited to get home and shoot up, Zivia nearly walked out of the shadows of the boardwalk and into the path of_ _the_ _Little Sister and Big Daddy walking past the doorway of the The Pink Pearl. Terrified_ _of the humongous drill attached to the trigger happy and_ _**very** _ _protective_ __Big_ _ _Daddy’s arm_ _, Zivia froze_ _huddled further into the shadows, barely daring to breathe as she silently watched t_ _he_ _cheerfully demented_ _Little Sister grinned up at her monstrous protector,_ _excitedly_ _exclaiming_ _to her “Mr. Bubbles”_ _that she smelled an "angel"_ _with ADAM_ _._ _The girl’s yellow eyes glowed fiercely and her skin was ashy gray underneath the smears of blood and dirt, a sure sign of a well fed Little Sister full to the brim with ADAM. If the little bitch was alone… but she wasn’t, so Zivia held still and quiet, praying for the first time since she was 10 years old that the monster and his little demon would pass by without noticing her._

 

 _Eleanor Lamb grabbed hold of the memory of that Big Daddy. It reminded her of something... something that would save her, that would keep her_ **Eleanor** _. It was... was..._

 

* * * * *

 

 _"_ FATHER! _"_ Eleanor screamed, desperate tears tracking down her cheeks. She tried to jolt out of the bed she was laying on, fear and terror making her want nothing more than to run and hide, but a tight pressure around her arms, legs, and feet held her trapped. Panic gripped her tightly as she took note of the tiny concrete cell she was trapped in, the only contents of which were the bed she was shackled to and several tables of what looked like medical equipment. It was all distressingly familiar, like her worst memories had forced their way out of her nightmares and taken her captive all over again.

 

Past and present blurring, she wondered wildly if she'd ever really escaped, if maybe the years of happiness she'd had were just a desperate dream.

 

_I'm here, baby! Ellie, I'm here! Rapture's gone, I swear! Remember the apartment? We were attacked and they drugged you, remember?_

 

Memories of the fight flooded back to her, along with them came the image of Celeste. Her beautiful, beloved Celeste, lying dead and discarded on the kitchen floor. Her panic mounted and grief burned in her chest. Tears flowed unchecked down her face as she gasped for breath, Eleanor unable to even wipe at them due to the metal shackles that gripped her bruisingly tight and kept her completely immoble.

 

 _Oh god, Father they…_ _Celeste!_ Eleanor sobbed, still jerking at the restraints. The dizziness and weakness in her limbs in addition to being strapped down were so familiar it threatened to send her straight into another flashback. The overwhelming grief, ironically, was helping to just barely anchor her in the now. God she would never see her girlfriend again. They’d never watch silly French dramas on their tiny sofa or just wander Paris together for hours. She’d never snuggle with her as Celeste’s family teased them good naturedly at her girlfriend’s parent’s home or call in sick to work and just make love all day ever again. She squeezed her eyes shut tight, wanting desperately to deny that any of this was real.

 

 _I know, Ellie. I'm sorry. She didn't deserve that._ _N_ _either of you do._ _But I need you focus right now, honey. Celeste is at peace but you’re still in danger!_ _After you passed out they carried you down and loaded you into a v_ _ehicle_ _. They kept giving you drugs to keep you unconscious. Without your eyes open I couldn't see where they brought us but I know they loaded you onto a plane at one point. We could be anywhere._ Her father’s mental voice was tense and worried. With the ease of long practice he sent her the memories of being carried down the four flights of steps at her apartment building and being lain on a mattress in what he assumed to be the back of a van. He shared the feeling of a needle sliding into her skin to keep her drugged and unconscious over and over again, unfortunately also interfering with his ability to pick up information with her senses.

 

A soft, cold voice sliced through air, interrupting her father’s run down of their situation. "21 years old and still crying out for 'Daddy' in your sleep. You disappoint me, Eleanor."

 

Eleanor froze at the familiar voice. Her eyes flew open and, shocked and horrified, she stared at her mother. Her mother whom she'd left behind on an American beach in favor of taking her Little Sisters and seeking help with Jack Ryan and his daughters. Distantly she could hear her father cursing in the back of her mind. For all the pain she’d caused her, Eleanor hadn't been able to kill her own mother. Father had been the one to teach her mercy, that you don't kill your enemies once they were subdued. Mother had been beaten, without her cult army at her beck and call or access to ADAM she hadn’t been a threat. Even Father had agreed that they likely would never have to see her again. What had changed?

 

"Mother?! What are you doing? Did you send those men after me? Tell them to kill Celeste?!" Eleanor demanded, struggling once more against the metal restraints holding her down. She couldn't figure out why they wouldn't break, Father’s memories showed it had been long enough since her last dose for her healing to have neutralized at least some of the drugs she’d been given, she could even feel the foggy weakness slowly lifting so why can’t she break them? With her enhanced strength she should be able to at least dent them!

 

Giving up for the moment, Eleanor took a long look at her mother. Sophia Lamb looked a lot older than she would have expected. In the five years since they'd left Rapture her mother looked to have aged fifteen. Deep wrinkles now lined her face, and the coldness she always seen her mother's eyes was now harsh and wintry. Any trace of softness or affection erased. Staring into those unfeeling eyes, Eleanor felt a chill of fear and dread.

 

Her mother strode closer, crossing the stark concrete room with the same prim, concise walk she’d always had. The familiar click of her high heels on tile contrasted sharply with the modern skirt, blouse, and lab coat she wore. She finally came to a stop next to the bed currently holding Eleanor captive. She stared down at her daughter for a long moment.

 

"After your selfishness destroyed my life's work I was a broken woman, Eleanor, but I knew I couldn't just give up. Humanity is sick and self destructive and needs help, desperately. So I picked up my old practice and started from scratch on finding a solution. Thankfully, the answer found me, instead. A group of like minded people had been searching for me since I left the surface. They read my published papers and saw the same truth I did. HYDRA was _very_ interested in what I had to say."

 

Shocked disbelief erupted from the back of her mind. _'Father?'_ _s_ he called to him silently.

 

 _HYDRA was a fascist organization_ _known for horrific human experiments_ _who helped the Nazis in World War 2. Eleanor, the_ _y’_ _r_ _e_ _supposed to have been destroyed by Captain America!_ _If they’re still around… Ellie we_ _ **have**_ _to get you out of here!_ In his panic, flashes of her father’s memories raced, uncontrolled, though her mind. School books with a handsome blond man in a colorful uniform standing tall and proud. Horror stories his mother shared with him when he was older, his fingers gently wiping her tears away as they both stared down at the number forever etched on her forearm. The familiar images provoked the ghosts from her mother’s experiments that her father kept caged in the back of her mind to stir, several of them with first hand accounts of the atrocities HYDRA was only too eager to commit.

 

Nausea welled up inside her as her father struggled to push everything back down for her. Fear and panic writhed in her gut from dozens of people in her mind, building upon one another until she thought she would scream.

 

Sophia picked a cannula up from the metal table to the side of Eleanor’s bed. “I told them everything about Rapture and they were rightfully intrigued by ADAM. Unfortunately, Rapture seems to have descended into all out anarchy after we left. Not only is the city completely dead and half destroyed, but their thirst for ADAM caused them to hunt the ADAM parasites to extinction! In three years our people couldn’t locate a single specimen!”

 

That wall of grief welled up inside Eleanor, vying for prominence with the fear and nausea. Echoes of the same emotion came from the ghosts, but it was thankfully faded, now. Her father successful in pushing them back into their cages. For all that she’d hated Rapture and it’s madness, there were good people, innocent people, trapped there. The Little Sisters and Big Sisters she’d been unable to save have weighed on her for years, the knowledge they were all dead now was part horrible guilt and part relief. They were finally free of their suffering but they hadn’t deserved the fate they’d been given.

 

And as for Aunt Gracie… Eleanor can’t bring herself to think about it. Between Celeste’s murder, Aunt Gracie and Rapture’s demise, and her current situation if she let herself dwell on it all too deeply she would fall apart.

 

__That’s right, Ellie, fight and kill and bleed to be free. You can mourn your losses when your safe, baby girl._ _

 

 _C_ learly annoyed, either by their shared history or Eleanor’s drifting attention as she dealt with one shock after another, Sophia wasn’t careful as she plunged the cannula into Eleanor’s arm, searching around inside to find the vein when her carelessness caused her to miss it the first time. Eleanor grimaced at the stinging pain, she was almost grateful when her mother finally found the vein she was looking for. Almost. She’d been in this position before, after all. IVs had only ever meant suffering for her. Especially when administered by her mother.

 

“And considering you, Delta, and Tenenbaum cured all the surviving Little Sisters, well… that just leaves you as the sole source of ADAM, doesn’t it Eleanor? Tenenbaum never did figure out how to safely remove the parasite from a fully developed body, did she?” Sophia connected the tubing to the cannula, leaving Eleanor in the familiar position of having her blood drained in order to collect the ADAM saturating it. The tale tell red glow flowing into the bag gave proof to the existence of the healthy ADAM parasite still inside her.

 

 _“_ Mother, please! Don’t do this, you know what ADAM does to people! You want to bring the addiction, the genetic degradation, and murderous insanity here!? ADAM should die with Rapture or it will destroy the surface, too!” Eleanor pleaded with her mother, hoping to appeal to whatever sanity and decency remained in her. Even the idea of Splicers on the surface made her feel sick. She’d never forget the violent, mutated faces and dirty, grasping hands bruising the tiny arms and frightened faces of the Little Sisters, of her, as they tried to take the ADAM they carried inside. Every room and hallway slick with blood and littered with bodies as they tore into each other over scraps of food and syringes of EVE or Plasmids.

 

As Eleanor pleaded with her mother to see reason, Sophia silently hung the blood collection bag on a hook on the side of the bed and picked up a second cannula. Walking around the bed, she inserted this one in Eleanor’s left arm, thankfully getting the vein on the first try this time, and hooked it up to a bag of fluids hanging from the IV pole at the head of the bed that Eleanor could only just see if she craned her neck.

 

IVs in place, Sophia finally looked her daughter straight in the eye. “You’re childish selfishness robbed humanity of Utopia, Eleanor. I raised you to understand that sacrifice for the sake of alleviating human suffering is an acceptable price! I can only assume it was your pairbond with Delta that so corrupted your judgement. Well, it’s time to grow up and take your place! The scientists here are the greatest minds of a generation and we will fix ADAM’s degradation issues and use it to create a better mankind!”

 

Eleanor glared rebelliously into her mother’s cold blue eyes, she could see the light of fanaticism shining brightly in them. “Channeling Andrew Ryan, now, mother? Advancement at any price? Scientists can solve all mankind’s ills without petty moralities weighing them down? We’ve seen where that leads us. You once believed so strongly against Ryan’s views on how morals were holding back humanity that he threw you in prison for disagreeing with him publicly. How low the mighty have fallen! I told you before, I am not your bloody messiah!” she hissed at her mother, disgusted at how easily she seems to have forgotten the lessons of Rapture and the suffering it had brought to the once shining city of one million men, women, and children.

 

 _“_ No, your not. Not anymore, anyway. But you are a useful tool for curing humanity of it’s self destructive insanity. Perhaps you will even be the weapon we use to cut out the diseased parts of mankind. Either way, we will wield you well.”

 

With those chilling words, Sophia strode to the thick metal door of her cell, knocking and announcing in accented Russian that she was finished. A guard opened the heavy door and as she paused just before stepping out. Sophia glanced back at her daughter, taking in the terrified frustration on her young face, her clear blue eyes glowing eerily as her body produced more ADAM in reaction to her fear.

 

“Mother, please!” Eleanor pleaded, jerking uselessly against the restraints.

 

Sophia turned away and strode out the door, the clicking of her prim heels echoing against the concrete walls as the door swung shut with a solid metallic thunk.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Again, if the Bioshock references, despite my attempts to explain crucial points as I go, are confusing you I made a short primer of common names, places, and references I’m using in this story.  
> 2\. The whole, louder while trying to be quiet and shushing herself thing is lifted straight from my mother’s hilarious habit of doing the same. The quieter she attempted to be the more likely she’d drop something, bang into something, or trip. Then she’d shush and mutter angrily at herself for making noise. It never stopped being hilarious.  
> 3\. "אָפּשטעל! ביטע, האַלטן! עס טוט וויי!" -Yiddish that hopefully reads “Stop! Please, stop! It hurts!” considering I got it from Google Translate. Please don’t hate me if it’s super badly translated. Anyone who speaks Yiddish that can offer tips on improving it are my heroes forever.  
> 4\. Eleanor/Darcy’s powers in this story are Telekinesis, Pyrokinesis (called Incinerate in the game), and enhance healing/strength/speed. In very dire situations she may be able to teleport, as well, but without an immediate booster shot of ADAM it will completely wipe her out and leave her defenseless afterwards. She can’t just endlessly spam her abilities, either, as using them consumes the ADAM in her blood and if she uses it all up she’ll be unable to call upon any of her powers aside from the passive powers of enhanced healing and strength until her body either replenishes the ADAM naturally via rest and food or a shot of EVE that’s been created ahead of time by distilling the ADAM in her blood. Similar to the super soldiers she has an enhanced metabolism and will need a LOT of food to keep her system from cannibalizing itself in order to fuel her abilities.  
> 5\. I am not a nurse and know nothing about IVs so please excuse me if I got everything terribly wrong there. Corrections are welcome.


	2. Blood and Bone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eleanor's time with HYDRA and her mother is brutal and soul crushing. A certain asset is re-acquired and plans are made by Doctor Lamb and the big boss.

Eleanor watched the lights smear by as she was, once again, wheeled down to the large lab being used for the ADAM experiments. Time has passed in an indistinct slog, blurring by her in untraceable clumps, the drugs constantly being pumped into her leaving her feeling floaty and nauseous. She didn’t know how long she’d been here, nor did Father.

 

The lab technician pressed the call button next to the lab door, tapping impatiently on the metal railing of the medical bed Eleanor was still strapped to while they waited for the guard inside the room to open the double doors. A blast of freezing air hit her exposed skin as the large metal doors were pulled and propped open, causing her to shiver and goosebumps to erupt all over her pale flesh. The tiny, paper thin medical gown she constantly wore did little to protect her from the frigid temperatures the base, and most especially the labs, were kept at.

 

Eleanor kept her bloodshot eyes on the ceiling and it’s painfully bright lighting as she was wheeled past row after row of occupied medical beds. She didn’t want to see them anymore. Every day more of her blood was pulled to be concentrated down into pure ADAM and every day ADAM was injected into “volunteers” to test if the scientists had finally managed to counteract the degeneration Rapture’s so called “miracle drug” was known for.

 

Yesterday Eleanor had watched in resigned grief as one of the men injected started scratching at his skin, where he could reach while still restrained, and muttering angrily in Russian. At first the words had been too low for her to catch, but slowly the man had grown louder, the anger in his voice turning to panic as he started to scream about feeling insects creeping under his skin. He’d begun to thrash against his bonds, hysterically shouting that they were in his head, burrowing into his brain. The lab techs had stood by, calmly taking notes and recording the man’s actions as he’d begun to bash his head against the metal railing over and over, globs of blood and bone chips flying all the way across the aisle to splatter on Eleanor’s wide eyed face.

 

She’d watched helplessly as the skin split and bone shattered, the man finally falling still after bashing his head in against the unyielding steel, the thick brackish blood that oozed down the metal rungs to drip on the white tiles testament to the damage ADAM had done. The lab tech had checked for a pulse and then calmly called for someone to take their latest victim down to be autopsied and incinerated. The scientists’ even tones conferring as they agreed the new compound had sped up the mental instability rather than retard it and so should be discarded. It was the only eulogy the dead man would get.

 

She was so tired of death and insanity, so tired of seeing innocent people suffer from mental breaks, weeping tumors, and inhumane experiments day after day. Tired of suffering with them.

 

So today she didn’t watch. Today she kept her gaze up on the dingy ceiling and too bright lights. She listened as Father whispered comfortingly in her mind and just tried not to think.

 

Despite her attempts, Eleanor couldn’t help but notice when they passed up her usual spot amongst the beds and instead turned towards the swinging doors in the back that led to the medical theater.

 

Fear knotted in her gut and tears stung her eyes. Oh god, she didn’t want to do this again! Not the theater. She clenched her eyes shut and prayed to gods she didn’t believe in as she was wheeled through the doors and to a stop under a bright spotlight and suspended cameras.

 

The dull thud of the doors and the decisive clicking of polished shoes striding confidently across the tiled floor signaled someone had barged in after her. She heard Sophia’s (not her mother. Mothers don’t do this to their daughters!) voice echoing in the cold, cavernous room. “General Luchkov, what a surprise! To what do I owe the pleasure of your company today? Have you come to watch the regeneration test?”

 

Eleanor unclenched her eyelids, cautious curiosity at this new person causing her to glance around for whoever Sophia was speaking to. After a moment, the newcomer entered her field of vision, long legs maneuvering easily around the rolling tables covered in medical equipment. General Luchkov was a tall man of about 50, his perfectly pressed double breasted, olive military uniform and gold star embroidered shoulder strap proclaimed his importance in the Soviet Army. He came to a stop, straight backed and proud, before Sophia beside Eleanor’s stationary bed.

 

“Good afternoon, Dr. Lamb.” The general greeted smoothly. “I wanted to let you know that the asset has at last been re-acquired and to inquire as to the status of the chair protocol upgrades? We need to wipe him as soon as possible.”

 

Sophia frowned thoughtfully. “The upgrades are completed but the technicians need to run a series of diagnostics before it can be used to ensure everything has been integrated properly. Did the asset sustain any physical damage during pick up?”

 

Eleanor eyed the two figures cautiously. She had no idea what they discussing but she was grateful for the delay in testing. Anything that could put off _that_ nightmare even for a few minutes was beyond welcome.

 

The general shook his head. “No, no physical damage. He was living in a homeless shelter in Brooklyn, New York. We had a few agents disguised as American police officers pick him up for loitering. His memory was confused enough he didn’t know to be wary.”

 

Sophia frowned thoughtfully as she pulled on a new set of latex gloves. “He was discovered in Brooklyn? Has his programming broken down that quickly? He’s only been missing a few months, his memory shouldn’t be coming back that fast.”

 

The general brandished a folder Eleanor hadn’t noticed tucked under his arm. He flopped it open and held it steady for Sophia to peruse without needing to contaminate her clean gloves. “As you can see, between our surveillance and interrogation we ascertained that the Soldat himself didn’t know why he was drawn there. His programming breakdown didn’t result in flashbacks, this time. He’s essentially a blank slate.”

 

The doctor hummed thoughtfully as she stared at whatever was in the folder. “This is good news for the new compound’s effectiveness in suppressing memory and encouraging compliance but it’s concerning that he doesn’t seem to recall his training, either. He should not have come in that easily.”

 

He hummed thoughtfully back at her, both of them still perusing the contents of the folder. “Indeed. His handlers for the mission reported they had to order him to eat, sleep, and collect his weapons. His default state was to sit and stare vacantly. His docility is why it took them a while to become suspicious when he didn’t check in upon reaching the rendezvous. He apparently remembered nothing of who he was or what he was doing and just wandered off after they ordered him to get in position for the hit.”

 

A gusty, frustrated sigh burst out from the blond doctor. “We will have to retire compound Z23, then. I’ll send it back to the lab and see if we can find out why it reacted this way. Unfortunately, general, we’re basically throwing science against the wall and seeing what sticks. Zola’s serum is unpredictable in the extreme. We don’t even know why the Soldat responded as favorably to it as he did. Every other subject we’ve tried the formula on has died… messily.”

 

Steel colored eyes suddenly cut to where Eleanor still lay, watching them. She jumped, startled at suddenly being acknowledged. She was used to being ignored no matter how much she pleaded, screamed, or begged. To have those cold, metallic colored eyes locked onto her and looking so calculating… Maybe she preferred being ignored, after all.

 

“Doctor Lamb, perhaps it is time I reconsider your suggestion. These breakdowns in the Soldat’s programming and subsequent botched missions are becoming too costly. The test results and projections you’ve sent look very promising. I was, perhaps, too hasty in dismissing your solution.”

 

The brunette shifted uneasily under that icy stare, a chill streaking up her spine. She did _not_ like the sound of that.

 

Sophia, however, looked joyfully triumphant. “Excellent! Today is the last of the regeneration tests and we have a considerable back stock of ADAM as well as a tidy supply of EVE hypos. I can have everything set up in a matter of days, sir! The Rusalka project _will_ help bring about our Utopia, I assure you!”

 

Those calculating eyes stared into her for a moment more before finally turning back to the excited doctor beside him. He gave a satisfied nod. “I do believe you are correct, doctor. This may be exactly what we need to get things back on track. The Soldat is needed now more than ever but at the rate he keeps breaking his programming we will eventually be forced to terminate him. Perhaps drastic action is what’s needed. Should the project succeed we stand to gain a great deal. Get everything ready and we will commence the procedure in three days. I’ll order the Soldat to be kept sedated until then.”

 

The two exchanged satisfied goodbyes and the general walked out, folder once more tucked under his olive jacket sleeve and a determined gait making an extra loud _clack_ sound with every step.

 

_That… doesn’t sound good, baby girl._ Her father murmured. She could feel the way his thoughts whirled about with furious worry. _Anything that makes Lamb that happy is very bad for us._

 

The aforementioned doctor gestured for one of her assistants to start the recording. “This is Doctor Sophia Lamb performing regeneration test 14 on Subject EL.”

 

Eleanor felt her father’s thoughts go utterly still, reflecting the horror she could feel freezing up her own, as Sophia reached down and picked up a circular saw.

 

“Today we will be testing the response time for severe physical trauma to a major limb as well as the regrowth rate for said limb. I will be removing the right leg and foot starting three inches below the knee.” The calm, rational sounding voice was at complete odds with the metallic whirring of the saw as the doctor switched it on.

 

Eleanor tried desperately to struggle free from her bonds, hoping that maybe _this_ time the metal shackles would snap. Her thrashing did little good, the drugs still pouring into her and the sheer number of restraints holding her to the bed gave less than an inch in any direction. Her desperate pleas for them to stop turned to shrieks of unbearable agony as the metal blade bit into her fragile skin.

 

Her screams echoed throughout the underground facility. None of the scientists or soldiers going about their busy days even bothered to look up. It was just another average day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) In the comics Bucky once escaped from HYDRA and spent several months in a New York shelter with an equally amnesiac Namor.
> 
> Bucky sorta enters the fray! Next chapter he enters for realz and I finally get to write the scene I created this entire story for. I'm super excited! Sorry for the long delay in both responses to comments and the next chapter, though, guys. In real life I've had something terrifying and painful happen to me and I'm struggling to get through it and the repercussions both physical and mental. I'm going to try and do better on responding and updating and I promise to go back today and respond to all you kind souls who commented on the first chapter.
> 
> If you find any mistakes I missed or have some helpful criticism I'm happy to hear it, just please be kind. I'm still really nervous about writing and posting this considering how long it's been since I last wrote seriously.


	3. Pairbond

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter Bucky! And a crap load of pain!

 

Chapter Three: Pairbond

 

 

Eleanor stared blankly ahead, concentrating as hard as she could on only seeing the painted concrete blocks and not the two people on either side of her naked body, cleaning her of the dirt, blood, and ADAM that stained her pale skin. She didn’t fight them when they did this, anymore. If she did then she’d have to sit in the filth until they upped her drugs enough that she was too out of it to even notice them, let alone struggle. _Dr. Lamb_ refused to have her stinking of unwashed sweat and body fluids when she was experimenting on her.

 

At least she doesn’t have to worry about them molesting her. Lamb had seen one of the techs grope her during a cleaning. She’d reacted with icy fury and ordered the man to be stripped and strapped down to one of the gurneys in the lab. When the next round of experiments came, he’d been given the first dose. He’d died screaming and bleeding out of every orifice. No one dared to touch her inappropriately after that.

 

The brunette hissed and flinched as one of the orderlies moved to clean her right leg. It had grown back within 24 hours but the skin was still new and sensitive. The harsh chemicals and rough handling stung.

 

She was relieved when they finally finished and stopped touching her. One orderly collected the basin of water and soap while the other unwrapped the towel still on her head from where they’d dried her shoulder length hair and threw it into the bag containing the other dirty rags and towels. The metal door of her little cell clanged shut behind them. Not a single word had been uttered the entire time. Eleanor had long since given up trying to speak to anyone that worked here. Regardless of what she said they never responded. Sometimes she felt like she’d already died, here. Like she was just a cadaver for them to cut and experiment on and no one could see or hear the ghost still attached to the body.

 

_Don’t Ellie. Don’t do this to yourself. You’re still here, still a person. They have **no right** to do what they’ve done!_ Father’s fierce love helped burn away some of the hopelessness. If she had to go through this hell, again, at least he was here with her, this time.

 

Eleanor closed her eyes and swallowed thickly. _You know what today is, father. They’ve never moved cleaning day up, before. Whatever she and General Luchkov are planning is happening today. I have a really bad feeling._

 

_I’m with you, Ellie. No matter what happens I’ll be here and we’ll get through it together. They can’t keep us down forever. Eventually they’ll become complacent or make a mistake and we’ll get out of here._ Determination, solid as steel, mounted up inside her and gave her courage. This was the feeling that made her father rise from his grave and march unceasingly through a hostile Rapture to save her. Thank god he’d let her take him into herself when he was dying. She’d always been weak and helpless without him.

 

She allowed his love and courage to bolster her. _Okay father… together._

 

And so they waited. For hours they lay in that barely padded hospital bed, in their bright, barren cell, as Eleanor struggled not to move her newly regenerated leg, the freshly created nerves and skin making it itch and feel raw against the rough sheets.

 

She wasn’t sure if she felt more dread or relief when she finally heard the lock clack over and the heavy metal door swing open. On the one hand, just laying here waiting for whatever new torture her mother and the other scientists were going to concoct was agonizing. On the other hand, she was going to have to actually face that torture, now.

 

Several lab coated figures and armed guards bustled into her cell, unlatching the brakes on the gurney and rolling both her and the IV still pumping sedatives into her sluggish body out into the drab concrete hallway.

 

She was unsurprised to see them turn left today instead taking their usual route to the labs. She’d known today was different. That doesn’t stop the knot in her gut from tightening with every unfamiliar door they pass.

 

Finally she feels their procession slowing down. They turn through a set of double doors and into a large, cold room filled with computers and…

 

Eleanor’s heart is pounding in her chest and her breath catches. Memories threaten to swamp her and she can feel her father’s shock reverberating though their mind. In the center of the room sits two _very_ familiar chairs. Gazing at those straps and buckles, she can feel the phantom bite of them against her skin as she jerks and shrieks, Father’s deep, wailing scream echoing in the room and then through her mind as electricity and ADAM course through them, binding them forever…

 

Why?! Why are the _chairs_ here?! She only remembers the brainwashing she’d undergone vaguely and in skewed, shattered pieces. The artificial peace, the learned fear of people not Father, the unending hunger and _need_ to seek out corpses bloated with ADAM rich blood to drink, all so Rapture could continue to glut themselves on their madness and addiction for power, regardless of the consequences or sacrifices.

 

The only good thing to come from those days was Father. A good man who’d been imprisoned and experimented on simply for the crime of discovering the hidden underwater city existed. They’d not known each other before they’d been forced into those chairs and made to love each other with electricity and drugs. But love is simply a series of chemicals, it only has meaning because we _choose_ to give it meaning. She and Father had no choice but to be bonded in mind and affection, but _they_ were the ones that chose the titles of father and daughter and to hold to them even after the brainwashing had been removed.

 

The sound of Lamb and the General’s voices pulled her from the dark thoughts and memories. They walked in side by side, once again sharing a thick folder of papers between the two of them. Despite herself and the knowledge she really needed to listen to what they were discussing, her attention was caught and held by the shirtless, long haired man walking behind them, accompanied by several more armed guards.

 

Eleanor wasn’t sure which caught her attention more, the impossibly complicated metal prosthetic arm that made her engineer’s heart ache to inspect or those lost, vulnerable blue eyes that shone out of that blank face.

 

“It’s time, Eleanor.” The sudden voice so close to her snapped her attention back to the threat in the room. At some point, Lamb had finished her discussion with the General and was now standing beside Eleanor’s bed, gazing at her terrified daughter and looking excited.

 

“Time for what, _mother?_ ” Eleanor sneered.

 

Lamb ignored her insolent tone with the ease of long practice. “It’s time for you to take your place, Eleanor. It’s time for your selfish rebellion to end so you can be productive and useful in the fight for Utopia.”

 

Eleanor rolled her eyes hard enough to hurt, “That’s strange, I could swear we’d had this discussion _mother._ I think the last time Father and I ended it with the well thought out argument of _blowing_ _our way out_ _and slaughtering your cultists!”_

 

Her mother sniffed derisively, as though she was a naughty child refusing to see sense. “I don’t know how I raised such a selfish child. You were meant to be the repository for all mankind, Eleanor! You could have brought true peace and altruism to humanity! No one else could do it! No one else has your immunity to cellular damage!” Lamb took a deep, calming breath. “But that dream is past. You’re right that you aren’t our Messiah anymore but suffering must be eliminated. Utopia must still be achieved. The only way to do that, now, is to use the tools of war.”

 

A cold chill shivered it’s way up Eleanor’s spine. Her eyes darted over to the chairs and a horrible realization struck. “You’re going to make me a weapon.”

 

The graying woman smiled at her. “You always were clever. It’s a shame you decided to waste all that genius. There won’t be anyone coming for you this time, Eleanor. It’s time to take your place.” She turned to he waiting technicians. “Strap them in.”

 

Eleanor struggled as best she could with her weakened, drugged body as they unstrapped her and picked her up. Father had his soldier’s mind analyzing everything and everyone around them, looking for some weakness to exploit and she frantically reached deep for that well of hellfire inside her that the sedatives had left banked and distant since that night but again could grasp only sparks before it slid away from her again.

 

Breath whooshed out of her as they threw her into the chair. She tried to kick and punch but multiple pairs of hands caught and held her down as they strapped her in. First her wrists and arms, then her legs, her chest and finally her head. Wild eyed and terrified, Eleanor could only stare straight ahead at the chair opposite her. The metal armed man was sitting placidly as they strapped him in, only those lost eyes betraying his fear. He knows what’s coming.

 

Both their chests heaved as panic threatened, their eyes still locked on each other. The headpieces lowered down and Eleanor felt the prickle of pain of her IV. being removed before the old familiar burn of the wide ADAM transfusion needle was shoved into her skin to replace it.

 

“And you’re absolutely sure the ADAM won’t damage the Soldat?” General Luchkov’s normally deep, commanding voice was audibly nervous from where he spoke from somewhere around the bank of computers to her left.

 

“Entirely sure. The serum within the Soldat treats ADAM like an invading virus and breaks it down very quickly. The ADAM with Subject EL has done basically the same to the serum within blood samples taken from the Soldat. Only by administering additional ADAM during into the active transfusion can we maintain high enough ADAM levels to create the bond. Once the pairbond is established we can cut off the transfusion and all ADAM should be broken down within the hour.”

 

_O_ _h god, oh god, oh god._ Regardless of it getting her Father she didn’t want to have another stranger forced into her head and heart as everything that made her _Eleanor_ was ripped out and replaced.

 

She opened her mouth to beg her mother not to do this and was surprised by a rubber mouth guard being shoved inside and strapped in place.

 

With no warning, white hot agony ripped through her mind. Eleanor felt deafened by the screaming, the man’s, her own, Father’s, and the dozens of other voices in her mind all howling in pain from within their mental cages. God, she didn’t want to lose herself again!

 

Grasping Father’s mind a close to her own as she could, Eleanor tried to think through the fire burning ever hotter through her brain; tried to keep a hold of herself.

 

_My name is Eleanor Lamb. My father is Jack Darcy. I was born in Rapture. I escaped. I will be free again. My name is Eleanor Lamb. My father is Jack Darcy. I was born in Rapture. I escaped. My name…_

 

Over and over she chanted it in her mind, Father bolstering her when she stumbled, but it felt like it was becoming shorter. Had she left something out?

 

_My name Is Eleanor Lamb. My father… My father is…_

 

Father? Oh god, where was Father? She couldn’t feel him anymore! An awful, ugly hollow feeling underscored the sudden emptiness in her mind.

 

Another surge of pain had her jerking harder in her chair, the straps biting into her pale skin sharply. The fire washed away all thought. Pressure began building inside her head and she wondered wildly if it were going to explode. Higher and higher the pain and pressure layered on top of each other until she wished she would just die.

 

Distantly, she could _hearfeelhear_ another biting agony alongside hers and, feeling as though she were missing something, she reached for it. Unable to concentrate through to the fire raging in her head, her desperate grab missed, glancing off the agonized presence. She couldn’t make another try through the feeling of fracturing apart, and wondered if there’d be anything left when that other presence reflexively reached back and grabbed at her, instead.

 

Tightly they clutched at one another, sharing the sheering fire between them and trying to keep each other from losing any more pieces.

 

With the same suddenness it had come, the fire was suddenly gone. Gasping, she collapsed in her seat, chest heaving as much as the straps would let her. Technicians rushed forward to check her vitals and unbuckle the restraints. She put a trembling hand to her aching head the moment it was free and just tried to breathe. Her brain felt scrubbed raw and too full.

 

Cautiously, she opened her clenched eyes, fearful the light would make her head ache even worse than it already was. Thankfully the lights were dim, and kneeling in front of her was a comforting sight.

 

The last of the straps released, Anya Volkova takes Yasha’s offered hand and he pulls her up and into his embrace. She sighs in relief at being in her husband’s arms, again, as the unfamiliar feeling of his love and worry echo in her mind.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we get to the scene that started it all! The chair and brainwashing set up in Bioshock 2 as well as Sophia's belief that it's free will that leads to all of humanity's pain and suffering really reminded me of HYDRA and Bucky. I've had this chapter and the next one in my mind for more than a year. I hope I've done it and the two series justice. 
> 
> Eleanor is no longer Eleanor! She's not Darcy, yet, and I'm sure her little mantra tells you why, but she will be one day. For now, I will be calling her the name HYDRA has given her. Also, I hope you guys don't kill me for that cliffhanger. I had intended to write more, but the spot was just too perfect for a cliffhanger and my inner evil got the better of me. Sorry!
> 
> Let me know if you spot any errors or have any constructive criticism! Or questions!


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